


Reckon, In the Past...

by wouldgraham (orphan_account)



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, West Coast Avengers, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Drabble, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Aftermath, Sexual Awareness, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25441741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/wouldgraham
Summary: sexual harassment (n.)- Unwelcome sexual advances, requests for sexual favors, and other verbal or physical. conduct of a sexual nature.Kate Bishop was sexually assaulted in sophomore year at Central Park.The nightmares still follow as she tries to collect herself.
Kudos: 3





	Reckon, In the Past...

**Author's Note:**

> Written out of my admiration for Kate Bishop's character complexity. This, again, used to be my roleplay auditon for a discord server and was unbeta-ed. The fic is just here to remind everyone about how significant sexual abuse might be.

Name: Katherine Bishop. National athlete-level marksman, one of the two best in the world. Location: in her bed, past bedtime. Feeling: quaim.

  
Today was hell. She engaged in another crime-fighting occasion, being affiliated to the New York Crime Investigation and all … Kate liked it. Although not like she never complained, chiefly when she realised that the case she had worked on today was as well as an encounter with her trauma. Suddenly, everything about the concourses and rendezvouses was something significant to her state of mind, and it’d sound even more ridiculous recognising the fact that the reason for her discourse was rather extremely trivial than general.

  
“It’s normal to feel that way,” so her therapist had always tried to convince her. She claimed that it’s normal to feel offended at an instance that was palpably not about herself, also at whence she was offended because she felt like being offended. She was, in fact, used to be … convinced, most of the time. It is at this hour when she failed to contain her disgust and emotions, either it was condolences for the victim, also madness, knowing she wasn’t able to do anything about it, just like she used to be when the assault happened to her, four years ago.

  
Yeah, **_totally normal_**. If she indeed is normal, then she wouldn’t have gone to therapy in the first place.

  
She birthed a river from the cave of her orbs and borne an ocean. On her pillow waited a series of slumber, whose existence she ignored completely. Instead, she dashed in a daze to the bathroom, stood on a steadfast stance, puking her guts out into the toilet bowl five foot apart from her bed. Guess it’s not actually necessary to explain the horror she had experienced which brought her up to become this mess, but there’s always a room to elaborate the terror she was engendered with.

  
Had she beseeched that she’d rather die than to live on with her pride turned into prejudice; the vista bestirred before herself, right at the riverbank of Hudson, haunted her up until the clock struck one now, amid the equinoctial gales howling outside. It was how one’s life--an assault victim--ended, which rescinded her whole intention of thinking so. Death by mutilation can’t not be more tragic.

  
After that, once there was nothing to be thrown out of her stomach, after she strenuously got back into her bed, she stared at the closed door of her bathroom. Was just being some body parts actually someone’s value, once they have lost their purity?

  
Clearly it wasn’t about virginity she was being frivolous about, but pride, but the control she had lost since that day over her body and her thoughts. Mayhaps, the surmise of worrying if everyone converging her knew about her secret had tired her out by now. Or maybe she was being scared out by the streaking thunderstrucks. Or maybe she was no longer feeling restless. In peace, what does she find?

  
Nothing, not even loneliness, except the assurement that she wasn’t actually alone at all. Katherine “Kate” Bishop, young avenger, mastered in hand to hand combatant (to protect herself!), Hawkeye, a sexual assault survivor.

  
She’s no more but an ingénue.

**Author's Note:**

> My twitter is @wouldgraham if anybody would like to discuss stuff or leave a personal comment regarding the fic. Thank you for reading!


End file.
